


Share Your Burden

by aTimeOfMagic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Angel Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Castiel Talks Dirty, Cute, Destiel - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Dom!Cas, Dominant Castiel, Fingerfucking, Handprint Kink, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut, Sub!Dean, Submissive Character, Submissive/Bottom Dean, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 08:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1420774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aTimeOfMagic/pseuds/aTimeOfMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the end of 'Are You There God? It's Me Dean Winchester.' 4.02.<br/>Castiel shows Dean that he deserves respect, and Dean comes to see that Cas is not, in fact, just a 'hammer'.<br/>He also learns that his 'people skills' are definitely not entirely 'rusty'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share Your Burden

A soft rustling sound, like a bird of prey flexing its wings, nudged Dean awake. He instinctively held his breath, cracking open his eyes and listening intently for any further signs of an intruder. Propping himself up stiffly on one arm, he peered over the back of the sofa he’d been dozing on and caught sight of a man standing rigidly at the other side of the room, the soft folds of a trench coat silhouetted unmistakeably against the dim, predawn glow seeping through the dirty window of Bobby’s kitchen.  


“Excellent job with the witnesses.” Castiel’s voice seemed unnaturally loud and harsh in the silent, shadowy hall, making Dean’s heart jump a bit. He rose slowly from the couch, running a hand wearily through his unruly bed-head and strolling towards the angel. He frowned.  


“You were hip to all this?” A sharp coil of anger unfurled in his chest. Had Cas sat, docile and indifferent, in some high up place, watching calmly as he and his brother fought for their lives?  


“I was... Made aware.” Cas looked up at Dean’s face, leaning back almost casually against the countertop and cocking his head slightly as though waiting for the man’s reaction. He looked close to curious as Dean’s lip curled.  


“Well, thanks a lot for the angelic assistance,” Dean spat. “You know I almost got my heart ripped outta my chest?” Castiel regarded him coolly, raising a supercilious eyebrow at Dean’s fists, which were balled up tightly as he tried to refrain from pounding this cold-hearted son of a bitch into next Tuesday. Give him a goddam pig and a poke...  


‘Well, you didn’t,” said Cas shortly, interrupting Dean’s furious internal monologue. The guy seemed totally unaffected by Dean’s festering resentment, which only served to make him more determined to force some kind of reaction from the damn placid angel; to wriggle under that smooth, calm-talking exterior and coerce some heat, some emotion. All the weight on Dean’s shoulders, and the terrible strain of the past few days, seemed to come crashing together in a whirlwind of fury and desperate, bitter emotion: of Henrickson, asking why Dean, so unworthy, had been given a second chance; of Meg, showing him the blood on his hands - as if he didn’t see it himself, like it wasn’t soaked crimson into his flesh, tainting his muscles and making every step just a little bit heavier. This tidal wave of self-loathing, of rage at his mistakes and at his suffocating sense of powerlessness; all this crashed together to make him desperate to make Cas lose some portion of control. He stepped forward, teeth bared.  


“I thought angels were supposed to be guardians. Fluffy wings, halos -- you know, Michael Landon,” He flicked his gaze once over the angel’s body in a calculated move. “Not dicks.” Eyes on Cas’s face, Dean thought he spotted a muscle twitch in his jaw. A flicker of triumph ran through him; perhaps this was going to be easier than he’d thought.  


“I’m a soldier.” Cas’s reply came so low it was almost a growl, the coarse gravel rolling over Dean in a powerful wave, making him suddenly, acutely aware of his proximity to the angel. He opened his mouth, almost nervously, to say something about how he should fight, fight for Dean and for Sammy and get them through this goddam war, because God knows they needed all the help they could get, the two lost boys up against who knew what, but Cas seemed to anticipate him.  


“You think the armies of Heaven should just follow you around?” A rustle of cotton, a waft of that scent which brought back images of the warehouse, of when Cas had shown Dean his wings for the first time, spreading their immense power over the walls before his awe-struck gaze, and the Angel was suddenly millimetres away from Dean. He was about to hiss at Cas, smirking exasperated about personal space; roll his eyes and wonder when these celestial creatures, despite millennia of watching, would actually learn. But he couldn’t; the taunt snagged in his throat as he unconsciously inhaled that distinctive scent of cotton and pine and cinnamon and heady, musky Cas, as he understood that the guy knew exactly how close he had approached. He stood, gaping slightly as he stared at the looming angel, and reflected weakly that he had certainly succeeded; Cas was most certainly, most definitely riled.  


Kudos to him, he thought wryly.  


“You think,” scowled Cas, blue eyes piercing into a confused and rather horny Dean as he leaned in even closer, “That I should just trail around after you, Dean Winchester? That I have nothing better to do? Despite the fact that there are other battles, other seals which must be protected?” His forehead was now perilously close to Dean’s, and wrinkled in displeasure. Their eyes met as Dean glared up, indignant at being treated like some self-centred, attention-seeking college kid, and even more irritated by the way he felt damn threatened by the strength and authority emanating from the guy. He flexed his shoulders with deliberate laziness, determined to project the usual façade of unconcerned arrogance, to feign control. Perhaps Cas would simply humour him, indulge him in his affectation, thereby bringing an end to this strange confrontation. Though this would probably be the simplest option, the easy way out, Dean felt an odd twinge of disappointment even as he considered it; it seemed so anti-climatic, a waste of the curiously charged tension between the two of them. This was something which, he supposed, had been brewing ever since Cas had stood boldly in front of him and declared that he’d gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition; perhaps these acts left more than just a handprint on the surface of your flesh? He stood, a frantic mix of residual anger, frustration and apprehension swirling under his skin, and waited for something more, a defiant smirk still plastered on his face.  


“You should show me some respect.” Cas’s growl raised the hairs on Dean’s forearms, his eyes never leaving the green. “I dragged you out of hell,” The angel slammed Dean effortlessly back against the wall, arm pressing across his chest and making a little surprised huff escape his open mouth. “I can throw you back in.” And with that, he was kissing Dean fiercely, commandingly, pressing him back against the faded wallpaper and parting his lips, licking teasingly across them before sinking deep into his mouth. Dean groaned softly, low in his throat, the vibrations rolling up to where they were joined and into Cas’s mouth. The angel chuckled, low and dirty, before tilting his head and kissing Dean even more filthily; hot and soft and delicious, the scent of warm spice, of fresh forest and ozone and the warm pressure of a hand in his hair combining to make Dean light headed and desperate. He clutched hungrily at Cas’s body, pulling his slim, tightly muscled body closer and threading his hand roughly through the permanently ruffled hair, wrapping strands of it round his fingers as he tried to adjust the angle at which they met, determined to taste as much of Cas’s mouth as possible.  


“I don’t think so, Dean,” Cas pulled back, smirking and pinning Dean back against the wall and earning a small whine of frustration. Dean rolled his eyes, a little exasperated that Cas was keeping up this whole dominance thing; Dean was obviously kind of used to being in control, since his experience with guys was pretty limited. He decided to play it cocky, again, to regain the upper hand:  


“What you sayin, Cas?” He arched lazily back against the wall, dishevelled shirt rucking up to reveal his tanned, perfectly toned stomach, his lips, rosy pink and swollen from kissing, parting enticingly. He was looking good, and he damn well knew it. “Backin’ out now?” His tongue flicked out to lick his lip as he stared, enthralled by the near perfect picture Cas made as he stood, poised calmly inches in front of Dean’s mouth, which was itching for contact. Cas’s trenchcoat was ruffled endearingly, his cobalt tie pulled halfway down his chest and his rich brown hair, though usually looking like a permanent bed head, was now real sex-hair, all mussed and careless in a fuck-me-now-Dean-Winchester sort of way. God, was he horny.  


The angel looked at him smugly and stepped away from Dean. He gaped in consternation, definitely more than half hard and disbelieving that Cas could actually get him this worked up and then back right off.  


“You’re being very rude, Dean.” Smug look never wavering, Cas cocked his head playfully and then, with a soft swish, he disappeared.  


“GodDAMMIT CAS-” Dean snarled, banging his fist against the wall and swearing even more loudly at the bright stab of pain. That was his pie eating hand.  


“Stupid angel jerk and his damn hot angel sex-hair,” Dean muttered, standing there for a minute then striding out of the room and heading towards the bedroom, with the idea of tending to his hard-on and then lying to fester in his resentment of the enigmatic, unpredictable, bossy bitch of an angel. He stalked into the room, and was just turning to slam the door shut with the power of his pent-up sexual frustration, when a body pounced on him, catching him off guard and knocking him back onto the bed. Arms pinned up above his head, he barely had time for a weak “Cas, what the fuck-” before he was being tongue-fucked by the angel, unconsciously opening his mouth to be plundered. He gasped hotly as Cas licked and nibbled down the line of his throat, stubble rasping with a delicious sort of roughness and growling possessively in a way that sent the blood rushing straight to Dean’s dick.  


Cas stretched across him, knee moving between his legs to push them aggressively apart, and Dean actually keened at his assertiveness, a desperate, needy, submissive noise that surprised him, but which made the angel groan and grind his hips down filthily, exquisite friction sparking up between them. His body covered with the lean angel, Dean’s stomach felt a tiny frisson of unease at his supine position, at the ease with which Cas had taken control. Unconsciously, he began to struggle upwards, but a throaty purr rumbling from the other man’s throat, coupled with a powerful, flexible grind ended Dean’s resistance. The thick length of Cas’s erection rubbed perfectly against his own, pushing everything else out of his mind and simply filling it with need, the desperate, reckless desire for more; more pressure, more hot skin sliding against his own, more of Cas’s rich moans as he came over him.  


Dean threw back his head, baring his soft throat to the possessive angel, who pounced; suckling thirstily at the tender flesh whilst stripping Dean of his shirt. Hands stroked along his skin, feverish waves which stoked the flames curling at his core.  


He bucked up his hips, frantic for more contact, and strong hands smoothed down his sides, tracing the dents between his ribs, the hard lines of muscle grown from years of hunting and running and trying not to look back. The warm, slightly chapped lips ghosting over the planes of his chest seemed almost reverent, breath fluttering softly over his flushed skin. Raising his head, Dean met the bright blue eyes of the angel, a plea forming on his lips even as Cas gave him more, latching his lips round Dean’s nipple in a searing kiss. The man writhed under the hot, suckling touch, distantly hearing the rustle of clothes being removed and the tinkle of his own belt and jeans being dragged off him. Hands slipped under the waistband of his boxers and, as teeth latched onto his sensitised nipple, a palm wrapped firmly around his weeping cock, fisting it lazily.  


“Jesus fuck Cas-” Dean choked. The angel grinned up at him indecently through his lashes, a dangerous flash of white teeth, before casually returning to his ministrations.  


“You need to learn, Dean,’ Cas dragged the fingernails of his free hand up Dean’s heaving chest, slipping fingers between his lips. “When to give in.”  


Dean accepted them, sucking greedily and groaning in a kind of shameful desperation. He needed more, needed Cas inside of him, wanted to suck him down deep and make him moan as his hot cum burst down Dean’s throat. The thought made him exhale shakily as Cas softly withdrew his fingers.  


Hand still curled loosely around Dean’s dick, tantalising, Cas touched a moistened thumb to Dean’s swollen lip, a moment of tenderness, before reaching back to his nipple, circling the hard little nub teasingly, saliva softening his touch and heightening the hot slide across Dean’s skin.  


Grunting, Dean lifted an arm to his straining dick, attempting to relieve the need for pressure, but with a hiss Cas grabbed his wrist and in a fluid, feline movement slammed both his arms back up above his head.  


Dean groaned.  


“God, Cas, you gonna give it to me or what? ‘Cause I’m gettin’ some pretty mixed signals here, man,” he gasped, rolling his hips upwards to try and get some friction on his dick against that lean angel stomach hovering inches above him.  


“I will choose to ignore your casual blasphemy, Dean, but I am unsure to what you are referring.” He flashed a dangerous grin down at the helpless man beneath him. “Are you expressing a wish that I...” A hand reached down between their bodies, drifting softly over the head of Dean’s straining cock. “... Grip you tightly?” he quoted slyly.  


Dean scowled.  


“Very clever, angel.” He squirmed under the rock solid grip, feeling a shiver of excitement at how powerless and wanton he was, spread out here, entirely at the mercy of such a powerful being. “What I’m tryin’ to say-”  


He was cut off as he was manhandled roughly on to his front.  


An angelic fluttering and the sensation of a bare chest pressed smoothly along the heated curve of his back told him that Cas had mojoed away his clothes. A groan was forced out as the hard, damp curve of the angel’s –impressive feeling- dick pressed between the cleft his ass.  


Cas leant forwards, painfully slowly, and whispered, all gravel and whisky, “Is this what you want from me, Dean?” The angel rolled his hips forward in a slow grind, fingers pressing again into Dean’s open mouth.  


“Suck,” Cas growled, and Dean didn’t even try to hide the needy whine as he obeyed, swirling his tongue lewdly around the salty digits. The angel chuckled darkly, sliding his hand down, teasing the sensitive rim and slipping a thick, hot finger inside. Dean keened as he was breached, the slightly dry friction delicious after the long wait.  


One hand sliding along Dean’s body, soft, dry fingertips stroking across his shoulder blades and tracing the lines of muscle cording down the curve of his spine, Cas worked Dean open, pumping in and out, finally adding another finger and scissoring smoothly. Dean thrust backwards, spine arching and head flying back, a hoarse cry rumbling out of his throat as the angel crooked his fingers up and rubbed against the spot deep inside him. Sparks curled up his spine and a white hot pulse of pleasure shocked through his groin, a spurt of precome bursting out the end of his dick. Dean gasped, fists clenching in the sheets beneath him, and then cried out again as he was flipped back over. Green eyes gazed up hazily into two bright blue ones.  


“Tell me what you want from me, Dean,” Hot breath ghosted over the head of his cock, red and shiny and utterly desperate, as a finger drifted tantalisingly around the puckered rim of his sloppy, stretched out hole. Dean moaned, any restraint entirely shattered.  


“Just freakin’ take it Cas,” His breath hitched as a finger slipped back inside him. “Pound my tight little human ass,” Dean smirked, “Fill me with your angel dick Cas, pump me fulla– AAAHH!” Fingers jammed directly up against his prostate at the same time the angel’s lips closed around the head of his dick, sucking hard, thirstily, like a goddam hoover trying to suck his brain out through his cock. Dean shouted weakly at the sensation. He was almost overwhelmed as Cas’ fingers thrust roughly inside him, assaulting the bundle of nerves even as he suckled gently on the end of his dick, tongue flicking softly into the slit and pressing down, slurping greedily at the salty beads of precum as they welled out of the tip.  


Lifting a shaking head, Dean looked down at the sight of Cas, his angel, who was gazing back at him as he pulled off the end of his cock with an obscene wet pop, pink, slightly chapped lips milking the tip. He blinked innocently up at Dean, a tiny smile quirking his mouth before he nuzzled the crown of the man’s dick with his nose then slid back down.  


“Shit!” The not-so-articulate shout was torn from Dean’s throat as he watched the angel swallow his cock whole, rosy lips stretching lewdly around the base, nose pressed against the smooth skin of his stomach, swallowing irresistibly as he continued to rub Dean’s prostate.  


“Cas, man, you might wanna – aah – back off a little... I... I dunno if I can hold on much longer-” There was a criminally deep chuckle from between his legs and then he felt warm breath on his hole, a tongue sliding in smooth and probing as deep as possible before he was pushed easily onto his stomach. The pornographic slurping as the shockingly filthy angel plundered his ass made Dean’s thighs tremble as he presented himself, straining towards the thick muscle, desperate for the sweet burn of being stretched apart, speared open.  


“Oh Dean, look at you. So wanton, so needy. The righteous man,” Heated skin draped over his back, fragrant breath ghosted over his ear as teeth tugged hungrily on his lobe. “Descended into sin.” Dean felt the tingle of some kinky mojo fill his ass with something warm and wet, then Cas slid into him in one smooth, hot slide, mouthing over his neck. With a soft gasp Dean relished in the slow burn, the absolute fullness, before Cas began to move in earnest. Powerful hands gripped the smooth pale globes of Dean’s ass, grasping and pulling him backwards to force Cas’s dick in deeper, quickly slamming him back, spearing him open.  


“Oh Dean, you look so gorgeous, bared for me, singing for my cock. I want to hear you Dean, let me hear you.” Cas’s hand fisted in the short hair at the back of Dean’s head, tugging his head back as he let out a guttural cry, Cas rolling his hips forward in a filthy grind, cock bumping deliciously against his prostate.  


Muscled arms pulled Dean’s unresisting body upwards, forcing him upright so he draped back against Cas’s firm chest. Sweaty skin scorched his back and tore a whimper from his already raw throat as Cas began to drive up into him, shocks of pleasure jolting through him with every thrust. The cool, predawn air was soon filled with the sound of slick skin sliding together, the exquisite slap of flesh on flesh and the soft breathy moans and throaty cries punched out of gasping mouths.  


Cas was slowly coming apart, his dark hair sticking up and forehead slightly crinkled as he threw back his head with a guttural cry. One hand moved up to Dean’s jaw, tilting his head to the side so their mouths clashed in a hungry, gasping mess of hot breath and lips and tongues. As they breathed in each others’ air the other hand slipped down from Dean’s hip to his aching cock, curling around it and beginning to stroke in time with his thrusts. Dean moaned deliciously into his mouth before pulling away to lean his head back against Cas’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and lips parted as if in prayer.  


_I did this,_ Cas thought, with a profound flicker of affection, a strong, undeniably human sensation deep in his gut. _I have touched him, I have taken him apart and I shall rebuild him again._ He felt a spark of contentment that he had helped provide this precious soul with some relief from his terrible burden, if only for a short time.  


“You are wonderful Dean, you are doing wonderfully,” Cas gazed down into the bright green eyes, which flickered open at his suddenly incongruent words. Perhaps Dean sensed their sincerity, because Cas saw, instantly, the defiance and disbelief, heard, with a swoop of his heart, the bitter laugh bubble out from Dean’s parted lips. And, despite multiple claims that his ‘people skills’ were ‘rusty’, Cas could see what Dean needed, more clearly, perhaps, than he had ever perceived him before.  


With a little sigh, he forgot, for the moment, the unexpected purity of Dean’s soul and his desperation to be absolved, wiped clean, relieved from his own crushing guilt, and surrendered to physical sensation.  


“You are mine Dean, hanging off my cock, so filthy and desperate to be filled.” He mouthed down the tanned column of the man’s throat, bringing a hand up and curling his fingers around it. He felt Dean’s body tremble at the possessive touch, heard him whimper desperately, and tightened his grip firmly on his throat. Dean keened against the pressure, bucking his hips as Cas began jerking him off in earnest, precome covering his aching length allowing the angel to pump it in a hot, heavenly slide. Dean felt the flickering burn building in his stomach, his breath now coming in shallow gasps.  


“You are only human, Dean. You must let go.” Cas chuckled throatily in his ear. He lifted his hand off Dean’s throat, pulling it across to slot perfectly into the red scar branded across the man’s shoulder. A tingling burn flickered across his skin and a profound, aching bond flared between the two as Cas twisted his other hand around the man’s dick and growled roughly,  


“Come for me, Dean.”  


As Cas slammed into him, Dean came. He felt stretched apart, every nerve singing and obeying the angel’s wish, spine arching and breath catching as he spilled over his fist with a wail. Cas’s muffled cry as he spilled deep inside of Dean was stifled as he bit down into the man’s bared throat, slamming in and bottoming out in a searing thrust before collapsing on top of him. Dean keened again at the claim, at submitting to the driving force of the angel and being strung out between the delicious driving ache behind him and the sweet slide on his spent cock.  


It was a while before either of them spoke, lying panting in the damp patch in the middle of rumpled sheets. Cas turned and fixed Dean with his customary piercing blue gaze.  


“Look at me, Dean.”  


Dean sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head a little sadly towards the angel, who was evidently going to disappear in a flutter of angelic grace and leave him to tidy up this mess. On top of the other mess, the unending mess which, now, was slowly creeping back into his consciousness, inexorably forcing away the blissful oblivion which he had so temporarily been offered.  


“I have shown you. I am strong, Dean.” Cas tilted his head, frowning a little and pressing his hand softly back onto the vivid print on his friend’s shoulder.  


“Let me share your burden.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so I'd be so grateful for any comments/advice!  
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it (It's been a v fun evening writing it with my dvds playing in the background.)


End file.
